


Carry Me (Hold Me Up)

by InsanelyYours96



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, Innuendo, M/M, Manhandling, Minor Injuries, Strength Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 11:53:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30004461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsanelyYours96/pseuds/InsanelyYours96
Summary: “Don’t tell me you need me to carry you to your room?”Slowly, Loki’s brows rose, and then a small, lazy smirk tilted his lips.“I hardly need you to, but I won’t turn down the offer, Stark.”Tony blinked at him, surprised, and then laughed quietly, careful not to wake the others. “Of course you won’t,” he murmured. “Princess carry for the prince?”
Relationships: Loki/Tony Stark
Comments: 9
Kudos: 112





	Carry Me (Hold Me Up)

The first time, Tony writes it off. 

The Revengers were fresh off an intergalactic scrimmage and drooping from the moment they entered the tower. In spite of their exhaustion they accepted Tony’s offer of pizza and movies to wind down from the day, and dropped off one by one. Thor’s shoulder was covered in red sauce and cheese from where he had rolled over onto Bruce’s abandoned plate.

Loki was fighting it, of course. Being vulnerable was bad enough - Tony suspected that, team or not, the last thing he wanted was to fall asleep in front of the others.

“Come on, Rock of Ages,” he murmured, crouching beside the God. Loki’s green eyes were half-lidded but watchful, and even in his current state Tony couldn’t mistake him for anything but dangerous. Seeing the God like this was strangely endearing, though - maybe it was his tangled curls, or the way he lounged like a large, deadly feline, or the fact that he had transformed his armor into something resembling leisure wear. Whatever it was, Tony couldn’t help but give him a lopsided smile, full of genuine warmth.

“Don’t tell me you need me to carry you to your room?”

Slowly, Loki’s brows rose, and then a small, lazy smirk tilted his lips. 

“I hardly _need_ you to, but I won’t turn down the offer, Stark.” 

Tony blinked at him, surprised, and then laughed quietly, careful not to wake the others. “Of course you won’t,” he murmured. “Princess carry for the prince?” 

He didn’t wait for an answer, and Loki was surprisingly compliant to his manhandling, helpfully winding his arms around Tony’s neck. Tony tucked an arm under his legs, the other finding the center of his back, and lifted. Before Extremis he wouldn’t have embarrassed himself by trying, but now Loki’s considerable weight was a nonissue.

The god hummed lightly, tilting his head so that it rested against Tony’s shoulder. His fingers were cold but his breath was hot as it brushed against Tony’s clavicle, making him shudder. The elevator clicked open before they reached it, and Loki grumbled in annoyance at the fluorescent lighting, tucking his head into Tony’s neck to hide from the glare. 

“Loki’s floor, J,” Tony directed, rubbing idle circles into Loki’s back with his thumb. The doors shut, JARVIS obediently guiding them to the floor under Tony’s. “Lights 15%.” 

The elevator dimmed, and Loki relaxed his head from the awkward angle. 

The journey was quiet, but neither man minded. Tony had come to appreciate Loki’s steady presence. He was prone to babbling, but it never seemed necessary when they settled together, each occupied with their own devices. 

When the door clicked open and Tony hesitated to step into Loki’s space, the God calmly directed, “The bedroom.”

They arrived at the mage’s room quickly enough, and the door spilled open at the wave of Loki’s hand. Tony entered cautiously - his Tower or not, this was Loki’s space - and smiled, bemused, at the sight of furs piled high on the mattress. 

“Didn’t like the bedding?” He asked, striding over and setting Loki down carefully. 

Loki unwrapped his arms from Tony’s neck and leant back against the headboard. “It was perfectly adequate, but I am more comfortable with my own.”

Tony tilted his head a bit, undeniably interested. “Are they enchanted?” 

Loki stared at him through half-lidded eyes, something unfamiliar glinting in them. “Yes,” he said softly. “I thank you for the ride.”

Tony stared for a beat too long at the picture before him, then smiled again, quick and sly. “Anytime. Sweet dreams, hot stuff.”

Tony left with a wink, the door clicking shut behind him.

* * *

A week later Loki was settled on the counter in front of the coffee pot and not budging. Tony’s whining, pleading and threatening had exactly no effect. It was _seven_ in the morning. There had to be some kind of law against this.

With the threat of a headache looming, Tony decides _fuck it._ He steps into the v of Loki’s legs, grabs him by the thighs, and tugs. 

Loki slides forward, eyes wide, and Tony keeps one hand braced on his thigh, the other on his lower back, and lifts him. Even in the awkward position Loki’s weight is manageable, and the mage doesn’t struggle, staying completely still in Tony’s grasp. Malleable.

Tony hardly notices, intent on his goal. He carries Loki to the living room, sets him on Tony’s chair, and glares blearily. “ _Stay here._ ”

Once Tony is sufficiently caffeinated, he returns with a slightly sheepish smile and an omelette. “Sorry Lokes, but you can’t cut me off from coffee in my own home. Eggs?” 

Loki accepts the offering with a smirk, ignoring Brunhilde’s speculative gaze. He devours the omelette in small, quick bites, licking his lips once he’s done. “I suppose that will do,” he says lowly, catching Tony’s gaze.

Tony smiles back, taking a deep drink from his mug. 

Needless to say, he doesn’t notice it the second time, either.

* * *

Loki is wounded. 

Tony doesn't catch much beyond JARVIS’s initial assessment, throwing down his wrench and rushing to the lift. He really needs to program the elevator to move more quickly in emergencies. 

The Revengers are in the penthouse. Tony’s eyes lock in on Loki immediately, on the deep claw marks that rake diagonally across his body, ripping his shirt from neck to ribcage. He reaches the group just as Loki sways. 

“Fuck,” Tony hisses, wrapping an arm around the Gods waist and pulling tight to steady him. “What happened? Actually I don’t care at the moment - why aren’t your wounds covered? Do infections not exist on Asgard?”

Thor flinches, and even Brunhilde looks a bit uncomfortable. Loki sighs against his ear, relaxing until Tony was holding all of his weight.

“Peace, Stark, I am fine. The worst of it is done, I simply need to recuperate my magic to heal further.”

Tony huffs, using his free hand to tuck Loki’s hair away from where it’s tickling his neck. “So you’re saying you’re too drained to prevent it from getting infected via magic?”

Loki jolted. “That is not—” 

Tony made a sound in the back of his throat, half frustration, half residual panic. “Loki, _please_ , if you’re going to show up here covered in blood, unable to keep yourself upright, at least let me help you the only way that I can. 

There was a moment of silence, and then Loki let out a long breath. “Very well. You may tend to me.”

“Such a privilege, Prince Loki,” Tony snarks, noticing with some worry the way Loki shudders. “The rest of you are fine?”

“Aye, friend Tony, we are well.” Tony ignores the way Thor is watching him interact with Loki, eyes sharp, assessing the points where they connect.

“Good, fine, the kitchen is stocked. Help yourselves—don’t get any blood on the piano.”

The Revengers take it for the dismissal it is, meandering towards Tony’s kitchen (“The fucks a piano?” Brunhilde asks Bruce.) Tony lets them turn the corner before turning back to meet Loki’s stare. They’re standing very close, Tony notices, which of course makes sense because he’s still supporting Loki’s weight. 

“Can you jump up?”

Loki’s expression remains neutral, his body still, and after a moment of silence Tony huffs. “Wrap your arms around my neck, at least. I don’t want to unbalance you.”

Loki sighs, a deep, gusting sound, and does. Tony winces at the way it must pull at his wounds, getting his arms under the God of Mischief and lifting. He’s a bit surprised by the lack of strain - from the couch or counter was one thing, and this was another - but relieved. 

Tony leads them to his bedroom. The med bay is far from the penthouse that Loki had teleported them to, and Tony should have more than enough to patch Loki up in his bathroom. 

Still, Loki arches a brow when they enter. “Your chambers, Stark?” he says quietly. “How forward.”

Tony huffs a laugh, appreciating the levity even as his mind stumbles and churns over what he needs to do. “When I know what I want, always. I can set you on the bed, or I have a stool in my bathroom?”

“Bed,” Loki rumbles, leaning up so the word is spoken against his ear, and Tony shoots him an amused look, fighting a shiver. 

He sets Loki back against the pillows, uncaring of the blood sure to flake off against his sheets. “Shirt off, I’ll grab the med kit.”

Loki’s shirt is nowhere in sight when Tony returns from the bathroom - vanished, maybe? - but he is in no mindset to appreciate the view. “Fuck,” he breathes, setting the kit down beside him and leaning over Loki to get a better look. The wound is even deeper at the bottom, like the claws had dug in deep before pulling free. “If this is ‘better,’ I don’t want to imagine what ‘worse’ was. Was it disinfected?”

“Banner sterilized the wound,” Loki said. “The Valkyrie wasn’t pleased with the use of your gift.”

“The whiskey?” Tony frowned. “This time I’m sending you guys off with a full kit. Iodine or even just water would’ve been better and wouldn’t have stung so much. And speaking of, I’m going to flush the wound with some water before I bandage it. You got a spell to numb yourself?”

“Not one I will bother using for this,” Loki returned. “Do what you must, Stark. I grow tired.”

Tony grimaced. “Breathe,” he warned. 

Loki’s body tensed, bracing for pain, and he made no noise at all when Tony irrigated the wound. Tony itched to suggest stitches, but Loki had made his opinion on such things clear before. Instead, he patted the area dry with gauze and bandaged it, wrapping tight enough for pressure but not to constrain Loki’s movements. The medical tape was nearly out, he noted, careful fingers coaxing it into place over Loki’s throat, the bottom of his chin. It was better to contemplate restocking supplies than imagine Loki exsanguinating hours earlier. 

“There,” he said, leaning back. He flashed Loki a quick smile, packing up the kit in easy, practiced movements. “You’ve appeased me. Think you can rest here, or should I take you to your room?”

“You wish for me to remain in your bed?” Loki asked, brows raising. 

Tony nodded. “Well yeah. I don’t have to stay - I’ve got a futon down in the lab. But I think you’ve been in enough pain today, and I don’t want to add to it by moving you again if you’re comfortable where you are. I can even go grab some of your furs, if you’d like?” 

Loki’s eyes sharpened. His voice was rough when he said, “You would bring my furs into your bed?” 

“I’d bring whatever I need to for you to be comfortable,” Tony returned, raising an unimpressed brow. “Tell me what I can do.”

“You needn’t do anything,” Loki retorted, though some of the tension fell from his muscles, some of the heat from his eyes. “So long as you cease your chattering and let me rest, you are free to stay.”

It was Tony’s turn to be surprised. “You would sleep with me here?”

“Chattering,” Loki repeats, somewhat sharply. Tony huffs a laugh. He set the med-kit on the bedside table and rose, not bothering to go far. He stripped to his boxers before returning to the other side of the bed and sliding in. 

After a moment Tony reaches out and wraps his hand around Loki’s wrist, feeling the steady thud of the gods pulse. Loki hums lightly, but lets him hold on. 

“Well, this will save me from worrying about you dying in the middle of the night, at least,” Tony murmurs.

“I am not so easily killed,” Loki replies. 

“Good.”

* * *

Loki’s recovery was quick as ever. Within a day he was walking around without issue, and the one after that, when Tony went to gripe at him about working out while injured, he pulled up his shirt and showed off fully healed flesh.

Tony had blinked for a moment, only barely stopping himself from reaching out and touching.

“Damn.” He smiles after a moment, tilting his chin up to meet green eyes. “That’s some potent magic, Lokes.” He wiggles his eyebrows for good measure and Loki rolls his eyes, letting the shirt fall back into place.

Two hours later Loki is sprawled out against a mat on the gym’s floor, Tony panting over him. It had taken forever to finally win a round of sparring, and Tony had only managed because Loki had stopped using magic.

“Again?” Tony asks as his pulse slows, meeting green eyes as they squint open. The God’s breathing has also settled, though it was fun watching his chest heave while that had lasted.

“I think not,” Loki said. “We were going until your win.”

That had definitely been a silent agreement in Loki’s mind. Tony hadn’t doubted that he could best Loki, exactly, but the guy had centuries on him. 

Still, Tony huffed a laugh. “You at least gonna get up, Lokes?” 

Loki hummed faintly. After a long moment, he closed his eyes again and said, “I don’t think I shall.” 

Tony snorted. “Oh, _I_ see. After such a dramatic and decisive defeat, you need me to carry you.”

“Watch your mouth,” Loki ordered lazily.

“Never,” Tony sniped back. “Also I’m not carrying you, I’m disgusting.” 

Loki’s eyes slitted open to glance over Tony’s bared arms for a moment. He flicked his fingers lazily, and suddenly Tony’s sweat-sheen vanished. Even the dampness of his wifebeater receded. He felt perfectly clean, like he’d just showered.

“Huh,” Tony muttered. “That’s useful. Imagine not having to pause inventing to shower. The things I could—”

“Stark,” Loki interrupted, arching an imperious brow at him. “You now have no excuse.”

“Oh jeez,” Tony snorted, “you _would_ give me a magical bath just for a free ride, huh?”

Loki gave him another look, but Tony ignored it in favor of getting in position to lift Loki. It was a bit of a struggle, since Loki didn’t seem the least bit interested in assisting him. Standing out of his crouch made Tony feel old in a way that was more mental than physical. His knees did not creak under the strain of Loki’s weight, but once they would have. The dissonance was strange.

Tony was just out of the gym when he absently teased, “I’m starting to think you like it when I move you.” 

He wouldn’t have paid any attention to the comment if he hadn’t caught Loki’s intent gaze at that moment. Brown eyes widened but Tony kept his mouth shut, mind whirling. 

Loki saw the realization bloom and lifted his chin, as if to say ‘ _so what?’_

“Well in that case,” Tony murmured, grip tightening infinitesimally. “Where should I take you?”

Loki’s brow arched, even as he relaxed back into Tony’s arms. “That depends,” the God said lightly, and Tony noted the mischief in his eyes fondly even as he braced himself. “You could deposit me in my chambers, or you could _take me_ against the wall.”

Tony’s heart did an alarming jig. Loki’s eyes were electric, his lips twisted into a deadly smirk, chin tilted to bare his neck just so. 

_The God of Temptation_ , Tony couldn’t help but think, fingers tightening on slim hips. “Against the wall...” he said slowly, eyes roving down Loki’s long, unblemished neck. “Or the window?”

Loki’s hand lacing through Tony’s hair, his grip tight. “ _The window?_ You wish for all to see you bed a God?” 

Tony’s eyes flashed. “Bed?” he said softly, leaning forward to speak into the shell of Loki’s ear. “I would have them see me _worship_ you.”

Loki gasped, and then chuckled, low and chilling. “You play a dangerous game, Anthony.” 

Tony leaned back, smirking, something soft lurking in his eyes. “Gambling typically works out in my favor.”

**Author's Note:**

> I always greatly appreciate comments. :)


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